My (not so) little love recently got braces. Never having worn braces myself, I was surprised at the level of care required to keep the braces and, of course, the teeth beneath them, clean. More surprising to me, however, was the level of discomfort that accompanies the first few days after installation while getting adjusted to the new appliance.
I knew that there would be some soreness associated with first having the braces installed, but I didn’t quite appreciate that for the first few days, pangs of sensitivity and pain would accompany each attempted bite or each stroke of the toothbrush.
We had happily accepted a “starter pack” provided by the orthodontist of specialised cleaning utensils and wax used for buffering the friction between the outer edge of the braces and the inner lining of the mouth. But we quickly learned that even though we had everything we needed in order to tend to his new appliances, it wasn’t enough to ease the pain as he tried to brush his teeth.
“It hurts so much!” my love complained after his first attempt. I reminded him that it was only the first day, and that he was now adjusting to so many things at once. “Try brushing softer next time”, I suggested. “And it’s ok if you don’t get it as clean as you normally would right now. That will come in time.”
I had also prepared myself by stocking the fridge with some hearty and nourishing liquids like soups and nutrient-dense drinks. I even bought some pudding packs and yoghurt as a sweet treat in between meals. What I was not prepared for, however, was the fact that my growing love would have grown tired of drinking his meals so quickly.
Not to worry! On day two, I whipped up some fluffy mashed potatoes and paired them with a pureed creamy mushroom sauce. I figured it was pretty gourmet, considering the circumstances. I watched as my love savoured the meal, enjoying something with more substance. But the novelty of mashed foods wore of equally as quickly as the liquid diet.
By the third day, my love asked whether he could try to eat some pasta.
I reached for some thin angel hair spaghetti, thinking that it would be the softest of the lot. While boiling it, I gave a single strand to my love to try. My heart nearly burst when I saw his face contort in pain as he tried to bite down. “Let’s try it softer” I suggested, and I continued to boil the pasta much longer than I usually would, until it was super soft and delicate.
“I think this is ok now”, he said after trying another strand. “Also”, he continued, “I was thinking that I should stop using the wax so that I give the inside of my mouth a chance to toughen up”.
I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.
I carefully studied his face. I saw grit. I saw resolve. I saw the kind of traits that we want to see in our children when faced with tough times. I saw the kind of traits that we expect of ourselves at all times.
And yet, I also saw pain. I saw discomfort. I saw a need for recovery and for rest.
It was only day three, but my love had an innate urge to bypass the pain and to push through to the other side of recovery, even if that meant exposing himself to more distress.
“No, my love”, I said carefully. “I don’t think that that is necessary. Your mouth is still adjusting, and the wax is meant to ease the friction. Don’t rush it. Allow yourself to heal and to adapt. The toughness will come in time. You don’t need to speed the process up. You just need to be softer with your food, with your brushing and with yourself.”
Softer.
Why is it so hard to be soft?
Why do we, when faced with compounding challenges, get hard on ourselves for not doing things as well as we normally would?
Why do we, regardless of the obvious need for rest and for recovery, innately urge ourselves to bypass all pain and to push through in the name of resilience?
Why do we resort to harder, tougher, stronger, or more forceful when a softer approach is what the doctor ordered. What the situation warrants. What the soul needs.
Why don’t we see our circumstances as what they are: as difficult, as trying or as challenging instead of seeing ourselves as what we are not: as impenetrable, as infallible, or as indefatigable.
What would happen if we understood that having everything we need in order to move forward is not the same as giving ourselves what we need right now?
What would happen if we accepted that there is always time for healing, and that the rest will come in time?
Grit has a time and a place, but there is always a need for grace.
Why don’t we try compassion?
Why don’t we try self-love?
Why don’t we try meeting our needs?
Why don’t we try softer?
❤️!